Chai Asi had once imagined countless times that he could be this imposing.
But for the weak, even anger is laughable.
One word, "Scram," wasn't particularly ferocious.
Yet with that swing of the iron bar that sent Lingxihua flying as annotation, it manifested awe-inspiring authority.
At this moment he was feeling himself from within, with a hidden spectator's Perspective, so strange, so alien.
He could still feel his own ears, eyes, mouth, nose, limbs, even his qi and blood and Path Origin, but everything of this body he could not control. Only a single right eye was left to him, like the skylight of a Prison, his last scrap of freedom.
Involuntary, like a puppet in a play.
Strangely, there was no fear in his heart.
If he had to say what, in the end, that Chi Yun Mountain God who fell into Eternal slumber had taught him, he thought it should be three words—"Go face it."
